


Like Nobody Else

by YanderexBabydoll



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dark, Double Penetration, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Jealousy, Minor Injuries, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:16:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25672672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YanderexBabydoll/pseuds/YanderexBabydoll
Summary: It’s not the words themselves that bother you.It’s your soulmates.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru/Reader, Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader, Oikawa Tooru/Reader
Comments: 27
Kudos: 691





	Like Nobody Else

**Author's Note:**

> Another shameless, indulgent soulmate au - but this one was requested so it's all okay

_Looks like we’ll have to pick this up tomorrow, cutie!_

_It’s uh, kind of a closed practice… sorry._

They’re not… _bad_ words to have.

You knew a kid once who’s words, running down his bicep, were ‘hey, fuckface’ so all things considered, you’d gotten off lightly. Sure they weren’t exactly profound declarations of love or flattery, but then again most people’s words weren’t either. And while you’d never gone so far as to admit it out loud, you were quietly pleased about the whole ‘cutie’ thing - at least one of them thought you were pretty.

It’s not the words themselves that bother you.

It’s your soulmates.

Contrary to popular belief, the thought of having two of them doesn’t really phase you. It’s not a super common thing, but you’d hardly be the first and besides - soulmates are special, you suppose (or they’re meant to be, at any rate) people don’t tend to question or mock. They are what they are - _who_ they are - and there’s not a lot anybody can do about it.

Regardless, your own marks are hidden; one written across your left ribs, following the curve of your breast, the other’s scrawled a little above your hip. They’ve been there since the day you were born - you’ve had a long, long time to get used to the idea.

Actually, until the moment the words were spoken, you were kind of maybe… looking forward to it.

Except reality so rarely lives up to expectations.

Maybe things might have been different if the first time you’d crossed paths was the first time they spoke to you, but it wasn’t like that. No, even with all the sparkle of being a third year transfer student, you’d had three whole months to decide your opinions on your soulmates before they deigned to talk to you.

Oh, and what an education it was.

Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime. It wasn’t like you could take three steps into this stupid school without knowing who they were. The King and his Ace, the Captain and his Vice Captain.

The egotistical asshole and his long suffering best friend.

Narcissistic. Selfish. Obsessive. Manipulative. Childish. Flirtatious. Charming to a fucking fault, and that was Oikawa on a _good_ day.

Iwaizumi, while not nearly as irritating as his friend, was stubborn, intimidating, and being on the wrong side of his scowl was absolutely terrifying but that wasn’t your issue with him. It was the way he stood by Oikawa, no matter what the setter did, no matter how many people he hurt, no matter how many times he pissed him off to the point of blowing up and hitting him, yelling at him - Iwaizumi stuck by Oikawa’s side.

And if they were anybody else on the planet, you could forgive them for that. For all of it. It wasn’t like you were some heavenly angel without faults yourself, so who were you to judge them?

But you’d had three months of watching from the sidelines. Watching Oikawa simper and smile and flirt with the pretty girls and pretty boys in his fan club only to turn around literally forget they existed the very next second and you watching as Iwa let it all happen without a damn care in the world.

The world revolved around them and their volleyball and everything - every _one_ else - was irrelevant. Tools to be used and tossed aside at will - and tossed aside they were.

And then they spoke to you.

It was an accident really, a misunderstanding - you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and they got the wrong idea. But that fake, cheery grin on Oikawa’s face as mistook you for one of his air-headed admirers, the way that Iwa’s eyes had narrowed, the irritation and exasperation, softening into _pity_ just a moment later before he dragged Oikawa away-

It wasn’t so much a gut punch as it was a slow sinking pit in your stomach. You weren’t angry and you had no right to be hurt, but… when you imagined what meeting your soulmates would be like, somehow that wasn’t what you’d had in mind.

And you could have opened your mouth, you could have thrown open the door to that gym and ran after them and said anything and they would have _known_ , but-

For three months you’d sat two rows in front of them in class, and not once in that time had they ever so much as acknowledged you. Not a flicker of interest, not a blip on their radar, why should some baseless markings on your skin change that? They didn’t want you like that - they couldn’t - and that was just fine, because you certainly didn’t want them either.

You don’t even _like_ them!

It was better for everyone really, for you to simply to keep your mouth shut and pretend like nothing had changed between that moment and the last.

In less than a year you’d all be graduating and they’d be off to University on some sports scholarship no doubt and you would find your own path and you’d all be happier for it in the long run. All you had to do was keep you head down and stay quiet. Easy.

Soulmates were a stupid concept, anyway.

***

As it turns out not doing something without consciously being aware of it and actively trying not to do that thing are two vastly different concepts.

You’re used to their gazes sliding right over you as they make their way to their seats, so when olive green eyes suddenly catch yours and Iwa stops in his tracks in front of your desk one morning, your traitorous heart skips a beat.

“Hey, uh… I think you dropped this,” he murmurs quietly, holding out your maths notebook.

Huh. You hadn’t even noticed it slip from the bundle of others you’d been carrying, too lazy to shove them all into your bag.

With a tight smile and a faint nod, you take it from him, carefully ensuring that your fingers don’t accidentally brush against his. Iwa gives you a funny look for it, but he shrugs and finds his seat, Oikawa trailing after him, eyeing you curiously.

And you’d gladly push it from your mind and let it be nothing more than a once off, if you didn’t feel that burning stare keep drifting back to you throughout the lesson. Each time that it does, a shiver runs down your spine and the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

It’s only two days later that you find yourself racing down the hallway after lunch, still half asleep from your impromptu nap, when you turn the corner and collide with a hard body.

Strong arms quickly wrap around your waist, and it’s the only thing keeping the both of you from careening to the ground. It’s your fault, absolutely, entirely, 100% your fault for running, your fault for thinking everybody else was already in class, your fault for not looking, and horrified apologies are already beginning to form when you look up to see who you’ve crashed into and the words die in your throat.

Pretty brown eyes stare down at you.

“Careful now, cutie. You gotta watch where you’re going or you might hurt yourself,” Oikawa laughs, setting you right.

 _Cutie._ The careless endearment burns at your ribs and your cheeks heat up - his hands haven’t moved from your waist and he’s still smiling down at you with faint amusement and you know that he’s waiting for you to say something - to apologise no doubt - but you _can’t_.

Even if it is your fault, there’s no possible way for you to say sorry without speaking at him, and you won’t let those be your first words to him. You won’t _have_ any first words with him.

It doesn’t matter what the words imprinted on your body say - they aren’t your soulmates.

You don’t even notice Iwa and the other two third years on their team come up behind him as you rip yourself free of his grasp and like a wide eyed deer caught in headlights - skitter away.

And you definitely don’t hear the contemplative little hum as leans against the lockers with and folds his arms, watching you go, nor the soft words that follow.

“Now _that’s_ interesting.”

***

It turns out that once you pry that lid open, Pandora’s box isn’t so easy to shut.

Monday comes and he’s waiting for you at your desk, that irritatingly smug little smirk plastered across his pretty face, Iwa, as always, hovering just behind. Both of them perk up at your arrival and you fight the urge to scowl as you manoeuvre around them to take your seat.

“Morning, cutie! Have a good weekend?”

Your books slam down just a little bit harder than necessary, but otherwise you’re rather proud of the act you maintain where they simply don’t exist.

Anybody else might be put out by your less than warm reception, but Oikawa’s grin just widens as he leans over your desk and rests his chin on a propped up elbow, “Aw, no need to be so shy, Y/N, we don’t bi-”

He’s cut off by a girlish giggle behind him, “O-oikawa?”

It’s a first year girl, cheeks a flaming pink, barely able to look up at him through her thick, dark bangs. She definitely doesn’t belong here, and if the group of other first years gathered in the doorway are any indication - she’s only here now because your homeroom teacher has a habit of running late and they’re keeping a look out. Regardless of her motives or her timing, you don’t think you’ve ever been more grateful for Oikawa’s devoted fan club than you are right now.

Nevertheless, when your eyes finally slide over to meet Oikawa’s you’re surprised at the flicker of irritation that darkens his face - the first crack in that stupidly perfect charming facade of his. It’s a look that makes your stomach flip, your heart squeeze uncomfortably, but you can’t for the life of you figure out why. Yet as quickly as it had appeared, it’s gone - his usual cheery countenance back in place as he straightens up and turns to address the stammering girl.

Iwa’s attention, on the other hand, doesn’t waver not even when your homeroom teacher does arrive and promptly sends the poor first years on their way and settles everyone down. Where Oikawa’s all smiles and flattery, the ace stares at you with a look of cold calculation - like he’s still trying to figure you out.

You just wish it didn’t set you on edge as much as it does.

***

“Why don’t you just talk to them?” your friend muses one lazy afternoon, the two of you sprawled out over your bed. “Say whatever words you’re supposed to say and bam! - you don’t have to worry about hiding it anymore. It’s a lot less stress in the long run.”

She says it like it’s so simple, and you suppose for her it is. She’s already met her soulmate - still in the grips of the sickeningly sweet honeymoon phase, but she’s happy. So happy she almost _glows_ and you can’t find it within yourself to hold it against her.

But she can’t understand why you don’t want any part of it.

“They’re your soulmates for a reason, Y/N-”

You snort in a very undignified manner and she elbows you in the side, tossing you a playful glare.

“- They might come across as assholes, but they won’t ever be like that to _you_. They’ll love you like nobody else can, and - shut up, I’m not finished - if you really want space, if you don’t wanna dive right into everything, then just tell them that. They’ll give you time if you need it. Nobody’s asking for you to get married on the spot, just maybe… give them a chance.”

You don’t want time. You don’t want space to figure this all out.

You want to erase the marks on your skin and forget that they ever existed in the first place.

But you don’t have the words to tell her about the sinking pit in your stomach every time they mosey up and try to force a conversation out of you. Iwa had grabbed your wrist the other day to stop you from accidentally tripping over a bench you hadn’t seen and the wave of pure panic that rushed through you at the touch almost made you crumble.

You don’t know how to tell her that it’s not just that you don’t _like_ your soulmates, it’s that you’re starting to get the feeling that there’s something genuinely _wrong_ with them.

***

Of course, like a bloodhound with a fresh scent, the two of them are nothing if not persistent.

It starts off small. Offhanded comments and questions you pointedly ignore. Then they start following you, walking with you between classes, dragging their other friends to eat lunch near where you sit every day. You’re thankful that they have practice every afternoon because at least that saves you the trouble of having to catch the bus home with them - you know for a fact that Iwaizumi lives only two streets away from you.

And with each passing day they become bolder. Oikawa draping himself over your shoulders as he tugs you towards the vending machine because he wants a drink, only to stare at you with those eyes glittering in amusement as you quietly fume because he knows.

He knows by now _why_ you won’t speak.

He knows that because you won’t speak, you can’t ask him to stop.

And he knows you’re not the type to physically fight back, which means he can play with you all he likes.

Iwa usually just watches. He’s quieter - happy, more often than not, to let Oikawa take the lead. You’d wonder whether he was even interested in you at all if it weren’t for the little things. The heated looks. The soft, possessive touches - fixing your collar, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. The way he almost snarled when some second year guy in your club came up after recess and had the audacity to make you laugh.

Part of you knows that your silence is pointless now. Both Oikawa and Iwaizumi are under no illusions that you’re their soulmate, but saying anything, admitting to that, feels like defeat. Until those words are spoken there’s a part of you that can live in denial that the universe has bound you to them.

So long as you don’t speak, you can hold out hope that once you graduate, you can walk away from this.

But while your silence comes with a cost, you still have some semblance of dignity and there are some lines you won’t let them cross.

It all comes to a head in your fifth period biology class a few weeks later. You’re stuck between the two of them once again, staring down into the lens of a microscope when you feel a hand coming to rest on your knee.

Huddled around their own benches, nobody else can see the way Oikawa’s palm slides slowly - teasingly - up your thigh. Your breath hitches and you jolt, almost sending the petri dishes in front of you flying, and you hear the soft chuckle beside you as he leans in closer.

“Shh, don’t wanna draw attention to ourselves now, do we?” he purrs quietly in your ear.

With your face still buried in the microscope, you pray that nobody notices the flush on your cheeks - or how you reach down under the bench to slap his wandering hand away. Your heart is racing, eyes wide and unseeing, and you’re gripping the microscope in your hands so tightly your knuckles are white, because while the both of them have become more than comfortable touching you, _this_ is new.

Except the hand returns, fingers creeping under the hem of your pleated skirt, brushing against the cotton of your panties, and-

“Tell me to stop.”

You’re out of your seat before you even realise that you’ve moved, rushing towards the laboratory doors and throwing a hasty “Bathroom,” over your shoulder at your teacher’s surprised call.

It’s a miracle that you can walk at all on shaking legs. You can’t hear anything but the pounding of your own blood in your ears, can’t feel anything except for the nausea that twists in your guts as you stumble towards the bathroom.

_They’ll love you like nobody else can… They’ll give you time if you need it._

You might actually be sick.

“Y/N, wait!”

A hand catches at your wrist and yanks you to a stop, whirling you back around to face them.

You’ve spent _weeks_ trying so fucking hard to keep yourself silent, but when the dam finally breaks, there’s no holding back.

“Why won’t you two just leave me the hell alone?! Why can’t you _fucking_ understand that I don’t want this, that I don’t want you - either of you!”

There’s some distant part of you that feels a strange sense of vindication at their wide eyed, blank stares as you rip your hand from Iwa’s grip and lurch away from them, but it’s a hollow victory. Your chest is heaving with the force of your staggering breaths, tears stinging at your eyes and you just want to disappear entirely. This isn’t what you imagined, but nothing about your soulmates has ever been right, so why should this be any different?

“… Did you honestly think I would after all of this?” you ask after a long moment.

And for the first time since the day they spoke to you, you’re not the one who’s standing in stunned silence.

Neither one of them lift a finger to stop you as you turn and flee.

***

And for a little while, things return to the way that they were.

When you walk into class the next morning, the two are already settled into their seats, chatting quietly between themselves. Two pairs of eyes, olive green and deep chocolate brown flicker towards you as they fall silent, and you brace yourself but… nothing happens.

They don’t say a word.

Not that day, nor the next. It’s like things have suddenly flipped and instead of pestering your every waking second they’re strangely… withdrawn. They don’t follow you, don’t try and steal your attention at lunch, they don’t hover over you in class - though Iwaizumi still glowers whenever anybody else gets close, and you can’t fight the feeling that Oikawa’s eyes follow you whenever you slip just a little too far away from them.

You want to believe that they’ve lost interest, but this just feels like the calm before the storm.

***

You don’t see the volleyball flying towards your face until it’s too late, but you certainly feel it.

It’s a blinding pain that stuns you - a shrill ringing in your ears and a slow trickle of blood that seeps from your nose. The force of the blow isn’t enough to knock you off your feet, but the sudden wave of dizziness sends you to your knees and you’re fairly sure that you’re shaking when you feel two sets of arms gently lift you to your feet.

“-Nurse’s office. Really, Sir, it’s my fault. It’s the least I can do.”

The voice sounds weirdly distant and garbled, like you’re hearing it from underwater. But you feel something soft being pressed against your nose - a tissue, you realise, and when your eyes look up, you’re met with Iwa’s worried gaze.

You try and say something, but the words are mumbled and lost. Neither he nor Oikawa pay any mind to it as they sling your limp arms over their shoulders (why are they so stupidly tall?!) and wrap their own snugly around your lower back.

They’re leading you out of the gym before you can protest, the rest of your class already resuming their respective games. “Relax, cutie. We’re gonna take care of our girl,” Oikawa whispers, pressing a lightning fast peck to your cheek before you can stop him.

Your stomach lurches at the contact, but your head’s still pounding and honestly you just want to sit down and maybe get an ice pack. Yet their presence is stifling - they’re too warm and too close and you feel like you can’t breathe tucked in between them as they guide you through the deserted hallways.

“Stop,” you murmur, your voice a little nasally from the way Iwaizumi’s pinching your nose. “‘m fine, let me go.” It’s a bloody nose and what will undoubtedly be one hell of a headache later - hardly worth the fuss they’re making.

“Don’t talk,” Iwa chastises. “Tilt your head forward - does it hurt?” He doesn’t even wait for you to answer before he narrows his eyes and glares at the setter. “You didn’t need to hit it that fucking hard, Shittykawa.”

His answering smile glitters, “Maybe I did get a little _over_ excited, but can you blame me, Iwa?”

A fraction of a second too late, you remember that the nurse’s office is on the other side of the school.

You don’t have time to process his words - the startling implication behind them - before suddenly they both stop in the middle of the hallway.

“Wha-”

It’s Oikawa who suddenly slips from your side leaving Iwa to support your weight, falling back against the door of a storage closet you hadn’t even noticed with a wicked grin. “I told you, baby. We’re gonna take good care of you.”

The door swings open behind him and quicker than you can stop him his hand fists the front of your shirt and he’s yanking you forward.

You’re plunged into darkness at the same time as Oikawa’s lips find yours. Any protests are swallowed as he grips your jaw and forces your mouth open so his tongue can slide inside. He kisses you harshly, relentlessly - he licks into your mouth and sucks on your tongue, trying to coax you into playing along with him, but you’re struck numb. The fluorescent lights flicker on, but you don’t even notice as another mouth attacks your neck, Iwa’s toned chest pressing up against your back.

Oikawa’s teeth bite down on your bottom lip as he breaks the kiss and pulls away, hard enough to draw a bead of blood and leave you squirming. “Do you have _any_ idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that?” he growls, a near feral smile on his face. “Our pretty little soulmate, hiding in plain sight.”

You try and speak, say something, _anything_ that might make this stop, but the very moment your mouth opens Iwa’s teeth sink into your neck and all that escapes is a choked cry. Your heart is pounding so loudly against your ribs that it almost hurts, but it’s the overwhelming fear flooding your veins that keeps you in place.

That, and the iron grip around your arms.

Oikawa tutts mockingly, letting go of your jaw so he can trail his fingers down the very neck Iwazumi’s ravaging. “And you have been trying to hide, haven’t you? You’ve known who we are for a long, long time - but you don’t strike me as the cruel, vindictive type. I know you didn’t mean to hurt your soulmates like that,” he hums, thumb brushing against your pulse point as he smiles at you. “Honestly, cutie, I don’t even blame you for keeping something so important from us. Neither of us do-”

Iwa breaks away to lick soothingly at your abused flesh, rubbing up and down your arms as you tremble in his grasp, and you suppose it’s his silent way of agreeing.

“- we know you were just scared,” he continues. “This is all so new to you. But you need to trust us, baby. I told you - we’re going to take _such good care of you_ , so just let us.”

He says it like you have a choice in the matter, but the way his fingers tighten around your throat tells a vastly different story.

You don’t offer so much as a peep when Iwa’s hands tug insistently at the hem of your shirt. “We’re not gonna hurt you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, gently kissing your cheek while Oikawa busies himself with the knotted bow at the front of your gym shorts. “You don’t need to run from us anymore.”

The storage closet is cold, but the hands that roam your shaking body are anything but. You manage to hold back your tears until thumbs hook around the waistband of your panties and those too are dragged from your body.

A quiet, “ _Fuck_ ,” is whispered behind you, but all you can focus on is the hungry gaze of the man in front of you.

Even when you hated them, you’d always acknowledged that your soulmates were more than just conventionally attractive. The both of them tall, toned and lean, and where Iwaizumi’s all chiselled jaw and strong cheekbones, Oikawa’s features are delicate but no less devastatingly handsome. You’re all too aware that before this all happened, they’d never looked _twice_ at you, but Oikawa’s certainly looking now.

Every inch of you is on display for their viewing pleasure.

Shame floods your system, your cheeks burning with it. It’s more than humiliating, standing in a supply closet as naked as the day you were born while they’re both fully clothed, eyeing you up like you're nothing more than a piece of meat. They can already see everything, but the last vestiges of your long forgotten modesty scream at you to try and cover up and hide yourself from their prying gazes. The very second the thought enters your head, Iwa’s snatching at your wrists and wrenching them behind your back with a low grunt and a nip at your shoulder that has you squeaking. The meaning is clear enough - _behave_.

Even under the unflattering fluorescent lighting, your nose no doubt red and the rest of your face blotchy and wet with tears, there’s a kind of reverent wonder in Oikawa’s eyes as they roam your bare body - darkened with heat and desire of course, but even as that familiar, lazy smirk curls across his lips, there’s something more than simple lust that burns there - and it steals your very breath away.

And then he catches sight of it, and it’s his turn to forget how to breathe.

He stares at the mark under your breast like it’s some kind of miracle - his first words to you, proof of the ties that bind you together. He reaches for it, fingers trembling as they brush along the words and when you flinch he looks back up at you and for a moment he looks so young and innocent-

But it only lasts a second before his mouth follows his fingers and he’s kissing and licking a traitorous path along your tits. “Iwa, isn’t she pretty?” he murmurs, sucking your nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

You expect Iwa to laugh and make some perverse comment, but instead he grabs your jaw and roughly tilts your head to the side so that he can steal a kiss too.

It’s only when he breaks for breath, looking less put together than you’ve ever seen him, that he agrees. “Beautiful.”

Your fragile composure, if it can even be called as much, lasts just long enough for Iwa to circle and drop to his knees between your legs. “But I wanna find out how our pretty girl tastes.”

Panic surges through you as his warm hands cup your thighs to ease them apart and the words spill out before you can stop them - reverberating too loud in the tight space as you beg, “S-stop, please! L-let me go, I don’t- I don’t wanna do this!”

Oikawa’s mouth falls away from your breast with a lewd ‘plop’ as he straightens up and grins at you. “Baby, if you can’t keep quiet, I’m going to have to take those lovely, soaked panties of yours and gag you with them. You don’t want that, do you?”

He waits for you to shake your head. “N-no.”

“Besides, if you’re going to take both of us in that pretty little pussy of yours, you’re going to need all the prep you can get.”

You burst into a fresh round of tears, and Oikawa just coos and kisses you again.

The first time you cum, it’s on Iwaizumi’s tongue, legs quaking in his iron grip as he slurps and sucks at your juices like a man starved.

The heated look he gives you as he pulls away, his chin glistening with your wetness makes your insides clench, but it’s nothing compared to the debasement you feel when he stands, grabs you by your throat and _groans_ as he forces you to taste yourself on his tongue.

It’s not enough. You know it’s not enough when Oikawa drapes your arms over his shoulder and pulls out his already throbbing, hard length, giving it a few cursory strokes.

“You ready for me, cutie?” he asks, brown eyes hooded and eager, and you both know that it doesn’t matter what you say.

“Please, Tooru, I don’t-”

He hitches your leg up to his hip and slams his cock deep inside of you with a choked moan.

And god it stings already, but he doesn’t give you a moment to adjust before he draws his hips back and starts fucking you roughly. It’s punishment, you realise as those dark brown eyes meet yours and he _grins_ \- punishment for trying to hide yourself away from them, punishment for thinking you could run. Yet even as he relentlessly pounds into your tight, wet, cunt and purrs filthy praise, you manage to bite down on your own whimpering moans-

Until you hear Iwa step up behind you, and feel the unmistakable prodding of another cock pressing insistently at your sopping entrance.

Your blood runs cold.

“No, please- I can’t! Y-you-”

His hand clamps down around your mouth as he forces himself inside.

Fuck it hurts, it hurts more than anything you’ve ever felt before - it’s searing and stabbing and it feels like you’re being torn in half and _all you can focus on_.

Your eyes clench shut, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks as you scream and wail into Iwaizumi’s palm. You’re writhing against them, desperate to pull away and try and find any semblance of relief, but their grip is too tight and when you shift your hips one of them stutters out a curse and their hands tighten. A pair of lips press against your temple and a thumb glides across your cheek and through the haze of your pain, you realise that they’re trying to soothe you.

“Give it a minute, baby. It’ll feel good soon, I promise,” Iwa pants as the two of them slowly start to move again.

There’s another moan and a hiss, and Oikawa lets his forehead fall against yours as your eyes weakly flutter open.

His pupils are blown wide, a faint sweat glistening on his forehead, plastering his hair to flushed skin, but it’s the soft look of adoration in his eyes as he and Iwa tear you apart that breaks you entirely.

_They’re your soulmates for a reason… They’ll love you like nobody else can._

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh I hope you guys liked it - let me know if you did with some kudos and/or comments :)


End file.
